


DeSoto 4 Sale

by whichclothes



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichclothes/pseuds/whichclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-BtVS and post-AtS, ignoring the comics. Spike answers an ad for a DeSoto for sale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my October entry for [](http://community.livejournal.com/fall_for_sx/profile)[**fall_for_sx**](http://community.livejournal.com/fall_for_sx/). I'll post all 3 parts today. Totally fabulous poster by [](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/profile)[**katekat1010**](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/)!!

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[desoto 4 sale](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/desoto%204%20sale), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**DeSoto 4 Sale, Part 1/3**_  
**Title: **DeSoto 4 Sale, Part 1   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** PG-13   
**Disclaimer: **I'm not Joss   
**Warnings:** A bit of language   
**Summary:** Post-BtVS and post-AtS, ignoring the comics. Spike answers an ad for a DeSoto for sale.   
**Author's Note:** This is my October entry for [](http://community.livejournal.com/fall_for_sx/profile)[**fall_for_sx**](http://community.livejournal.com/fall_for_sx/). I'll post all 3 parts today. Totally fabulous poster by [](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/profile)[**katekat1010**](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/)!!

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/00067qg6/)  
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**DeSoto 4 Sale  
Part One **

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/00069t77/)  
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[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/0006awpf/)  
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[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/0006b6ed/)  
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From: xlh99@yahoo.com

To: wtb1880@ymail.com

Sent: September 7, 2009 (11:21pm PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Hey. You had questions on the DeSoto? I got answers.

 

 

 

From: wtb1880@ymail.com

To: xlh99@yahoo.com

Sent: September 7, 2009 (11:39pm PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Why are you selling? How much TLC?

 

 

 

From: xlh99@yahoo.com

To: wtb1880@ymail.com

Sent: September 7, 2009 (11:54pm PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Bought the car because it reminded me of someone. Turns out I have more projects than time. Body’s pretty good, interior’s not bad. Bad brakes. Engine runs okay. You could drive it without too much work, but it deserves better than I can give it.

 

 

 

From: wtb1880@ymail.com

To: xlh99@yahoo.com

Sent: September 8, 2009 (12:03am PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Flexible on price?

 

 

 

From: xlh99@yahoo.com

To: wtb1880@ymail.com

Sent: September 8, 2009 (12:12am PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

With the right person, sure.

 

 

From: wtb1880@ymail.com

To: xlh99@yahoo.com

Sent: September 8, 2009 (12:18am PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Can I come up and take a look?

 

 

From: xlh99@yahoo.com

To: wtb1880@ymail.com

Sent: September 8, 2009 (12:26am PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Sure. When?

 

 

 

From: wtb1880@ymail.com

To: xlh99@yahoo.com

Sent: September 8, 2009 (12:32am PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Tomorrow—erm, today. This afternoon?

 

 

 

From: xlh99@yahoo.com

To: wtb1880@ymail.com

Sent: September 8, 2009 (12:36am PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Can’t do it until after 7:30pm.

 

 

From: wtb1880@ymail.com

To: xlh99@yahoo.com

Sent: September 8, 2009 (12:48am PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Bloody inconvenient. I live in Berkeley.

 

 

 

From: xlh99@yahoo.com

To: wtb1880@ymail.com

Sent: September 8, 2009 (12:59am PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

Tell you what. I run a little motel, The Pale Prospector Inn. It’s a slow week &amp; I have empty rooms. If you’re serious about the car, I can let you stay the night for free.

 

 

From: wtb1880@ymail.com

To: xlh99@yahoo.com

Sent: September 8, 2009 (1:12am PDT)

Re: DeSoto

 

See you at 7:30.

[Part Two ](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/81451.html)

 

 

 


	2. DeSoto 4 Sale, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-BtVS and post-AtS, ignoring the comics. Spike answers an ad for a DeSoto for sale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my October entry for fall_for_sx. I'll post all 3 parts today. Totally fabulous poster y [](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/profile)[**katekat1010**](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/)!!

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[desoto 4 sale](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/desoto%204%20sale), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**DeSoto 4 Sale, Part 2/3**_  
**Title: **DeSoto 4 Sale, Part 2   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** PG-13   
**Disclaimer: **I'm not Joss   
**Warnings:** A bit of language   
**Summary:** Post-BtVS and post-AtS, ignoring the comics. Spike answers an ad for a DeSoto for sale.   
**Author's Note:** This is my October entry for fall_for_sx. I'll post all 3 parts today. Totally fabulous poster y [](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/profile)[**katekat1010**](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/)!!

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/00067qg6/)  
---  
  
**Part Two**

Spike gunned the engine as he rounded the bend. The Indian purred between his legs, taking the curve smooth and even. The road was starting to rise a little, twisting between golden-hued grass and stands of gnarled live oaks. Now and then, cattle watched him curiously as he passed. It was, he had to admit, a glorious day for a ride. Not much traffic this late, and the sun was still warm on his bare arms. Might even work up a bit of a tan, he thought, and laughed into the wind.

Downtown Jamestown itself was about three blocks long, but the address he was going to was a couple miles off the highway, over the crest of a hill and down a quiet road. He saw the sign first—the name of the place plus a painting of a grinning man with a pan full of gold—and pulled into the parking lot.

The inn was an old motor court, with a dozen or so small log cabins clustered in a U-shape under towering pines and sequoias. A slightly larger building on one end served as the office. A static caravan was parked off to one side. Although the place had clearly been built many years ago, and the whole thing was rather rustic, everything looked well-maintained. Each of the cabins had a brightly painted door and a small front porch with a pair of rocking chairs and a pot or two of geraniums.

The lot was nearly empty. The DeSoto was parked near the office, with a slightly battered red pickup beside it. It looked like the kind of truck that somebody actually used to haul things in, instead of just running errands in the suburbs. A silver Toyota SUV, a green Prius, and a dusty black BMW were scattered across the rest of the lot. Spike parked the bike next to the DeSoto and turned off the engine. He dismounted, took off his helmet and hung it on a handlebar, and stretched his cramped muscles. He liked the Indian very much, and he’d put many hours into getting it in such good shape, but it could get uncomfortable after a long ride. Didn’t do much to keep him dry, either, and soon what passed for a rainy season in California would arrive.

He stood a minute, enjoying the clean forest scent and the sounds of birds settling in for the night. It had been a long time since he’d spent time outside the city. It was probably worth the trip up here even if the car didn’t work out. There was no sign of the seller, and he glanced at his watch. Just past seven. He’d made better time than he expected.

He thought about going into the office to see if the bloke was there, but decided instead to take the opportunity for a private look at the car. He limped the few yards over, humming happily to himself.

At first glance, it looked pretty good. He walked around it. There were a couple small dents, but no sign of rust or corrosion. It appeared to be a car that had actually been driven, not just stowed away in a garage and trotted out for play, and that was fine with him. He wasn’t in the market for a show pony. Peeking inside, he saw that the interior was done in black and deep red, and was in fairly good shape as well. A little scuffed, sure, but again, that only meant the car had some history. Like him.

“Nice bike!”

Spike stood up abruptly, and then did a double take. A Lister demon was standing on the other side of the DeSoto, eyeing his motorcycle in admiration. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a green checked shirt.

“Erm, thanks,” Spike said. “You the bloke that owns the car?”

The demon smiled and shook his head. “No. I’m just a guest here.” He looked up at the sky. “He’ll be out in about ten or fifteen minutes.”

“All right. Ta.” The demon gave him a small wave and then walked off to one of the cabins, the one near the Toyota. Spike watched him head inside, and then looked around. A path led off behind the office, into the trees. “Might as well enjoy while I’m here,” he muttered to himself, and stepped in that direction.

The path was narrow, covered in soft and fragrant pine needles. It didn’t seem to go anyplace in particular, just meandering through the woods, over a tiny creek, and finally into a small clearing ringed with blackberry brambles. While he walked, Spike thought about the demon he’d just met. Listers were harmless enough, but it was odd to run into one here, up in the foothills, where a bloke who looked like him would certainly stand out. Most demons he knew kept to cities, where people were used to seeing unusual things and it was easier for someone with green skin or horns to go unremarked. After all, he’d seen much stranger things than a Lister demon in places like San Francisco and New York.

The path continued on after the clearing, heading up a steep, boulder-strewn slope, but Spike glanced up at the nearly dark sky and decided to head back. Now that he lacked vampire sight, he didn’t fancy crashing through the forest without a light. Besides, his sodding leg was unused to tramping about on uneven terrain and it was beginning to hurt.

He emerged back in the parking lot just as the lights went on outside the cabins, engulfing the compound in a soft, welcoming glow. Looks like home, he thought, and then immediately scoffed at himself. Home? He never lived in a bloody log cabin!

The light from the office shone brightly on the DeSoto, so he was still able to have a good look. He was leaning over to inspect a small ding in the bonnet when he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. He swung around quickly, decades of experience causing him to instinctively crouch into a defensive position. He missed the comforting snick of fangs slipping into place.

But fangs wouldn’t have done him any good anyway, because what he saw shocked him into immobility.

“H-H-Harris?!” he sputtered.

The man looked as flabbergasted as he felt, his one eye open wide and his mouth hanging open. “Spike??”

They stared at each other in complete astonishment.

It was Spike who finally broke the stunned silence. “What the bloody hell are _you_ doing here?”

“I _live_ here.” Xander gestured vaguely around. “This is my motel. What are you doing—Oh. Oh! You’re wtb1880.”

Spike shook his head as if that might clear his confusion. “I’m…yeah. And you’re xlh99, I expect.”

Xander smiled, that same slightly goofy grin Spike remembered from Sunnydale. “You expect correctly. But…but you’re dead!”

Spike shrugged. “Not lately.”

Xander came a few steps closer, then stopped and frowned. “But how did you….It just got dark, and that must be your bike, and—“ His mouth fell open again. “You’re _alive_!” he nearly whispered. “Holy shit!”

“Nothing holy about it.”

“How…with the…what…how….”

Spike interrupted the stammer. “It was a pressie from the Powers That Fuck You Over. Save the world, lose your friends, gain a pulse. Quite a bargain, innit?”

“But…. How long?”

Spike thought for a moment. “Five years. There was a dust-up with these lawyer gits—“

“I heard about that. I heard you guys beat them, but you all died in the process.”

Spike clenched his jaw at the unpleasant memories that flooded back. “The rest died. Pouf dusted. I got to live.”

“Christ.”

For a moment, Spike though he saw sympathy in Xander’s face, but that must have been a trick of the light. The whelp would never feel like that for him. But then Spike squinted and tilted his head, because there was definitely something…off…about Harris.

He looked nearly the same as he had when Spike last saw him in Sunnydale. Floppy hair that was falling in his eyes. Beige trousers that were too large for him. A baggy shirt that might once have been navy but was now more gray than anything. An ugly black patch over his left eye socket. Xander stood still for the examination, his face impassive.

And then Spike got it.

He hissed and backed up, but discovered he was trapped against the big black car. He eyed the distance to his bike, knowing he’d never make it, not even if he didn’t have a bum leg.

Xander just stared at him, unmoving. Unbreathing.

It was all too much. Spike’s head was swimming and he was thankful the car was there to prop him up.

“What…how….?” he rasped, suddenly as incoherent as Xander.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Xander replied. His face was awash in sorrow, but that must have been a ploy.

Spike took a deep breath and stood up straight. All right. It wasn’t exactly how he’d expected things to end, but he wasn’t about to go out sniveling and cowering. “Did you lure me up here for this?” he asked.

“Lure you? Spike, I had no idea it was you until just now. You were supposed to be dead, remember?”

“Then it’s just a lucky coincidence?” Spike sneered.

“I don’t—“ Xander stopped and looked over Spike’s shoulder. Spike turned his head a bit and saw the Lister demon standing on the porch of his cabin. He was going to shout out to warn the bloke, but before he could, the demon called out.

“Hey, Xander! We’re still having trouble with that faucet. Do you think you could take a look at it?” the Lister yelled.

“Sure, Mr. Taggart. Just, um, give me a few, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks!” The demon waved and went back inside.

Spike turned his head back toward Xander and blinked at him.

“My day help quit last week, so now all the jobs pile up until sundown, waiting for me.” Xander grinned a bit at him.

“Jobs?” Spike’s mind was chasing itself in circles, and nothing made sense. Perhaps he’d finally gone round the bend and this was all some sort of hallucination.

“Yeah. Told you, it’s my place. And everything’s sort of antique, so there’s always something breaking. The wiring in Three is whacko and there’s a couple loose shingles on Eight. That was gonna be my chores for tonight. Well, and Mr. Taggart’s sink.”

“But…but you’re a bloody vampire!” Spike was aware that his voice sounded more than a little plaintive, but he was so bloody confused.

Xander was still keeping his distance, and he sighed. “Yeah. Look. How about a drink?”

 

Spike trailed behind Xander as they walked into the office. It was tidy and cozy inside, with a tall reception desk and a computer, but also several comfortable-looking chairs gathered around a stone fireplace, and shelves full of DVDs and board games and worn paperbacks, and a rack stuffed with colorful brochures. A mediocre painting of a mountain stream hung on one wall. The floor was gleaming polished wood, and the mantel held a few enormous pinecones and a birds nest.

“C’mon,” Xander said, gesturing at Spike to follow him. “Though I guess you’re not the one needing the invites anymore.”

They walked behind the desk and through a door, into what was obviously Xander’s own flat. The windows were all tightly covered with blackout curtains. Xander pointed at a small, overstuffed sofa, and Spike numbly sat down. He watched as Xander went to the tiny kitchen area, grabbed a pair of glasses out of a cupboard, and then poured a healthy slosh of tequila into each. “Sorry. This is all I have,” Xander said, handing Spike a glass. It had Snoopy characters printed on it.

Xander didn’t sit. “I’m gonna go take care of that faucet, okay? Shouldn’t take me very long. Um, there’s more Cuervo there on the counter, and some beer in the fridge. Next to, um, the A-Pos, but that’s probably not so tasty to you now. I think maybe there’s some food around. Help yourself. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Spike nodded. He still couldn’t quite manage words. Xander opened a door and pulled out a toolbox, then smiled briefly and left.

It occurred to Spike that he could escape now. He could hop onto the bike and outrun any of the other vehicles in the lot by far. Except…Xander could’ve killed him already by now and he hadn’t. And Spike was always too curious for his own good. So he stood and poked around a bit.

The room was messier than the front room, but still far better than that horrible basement. A large, unmade bed was shoved against one wooden wall. There was a chest of drawers full of more of Harris’s appalling clothing; and two cupboards, one with clothing and one packed full of tools; and the sofa, which was placed in front of a large television. A small shelf held a few books—mostly on repairing things—and some movies and a few knickknacks. The kitchenette took up one corner of the room. It consisted of a tiny counter and two cupboards, a sink, a microwave and a fridge, a small round table and two chairs. He opened the refrigerator. It contained five bottles of Full Sail and several plastic packets of blood. So Xander was drinking packaged stuff. Why?

A door near the bed was slightly ajar. Behind it lay the small bathroom, with an old fashioned clawfoot tub. Spike used the toilet. That was one thing he definitely hadn’t missed as a vampire. Then he peeked in the mirror. His hair was a mess from the helmet and he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Which he had, in a manner of speaking.

Back on the sofa, he sipped at his tequila. He hated the stuff, but beer was just not going to do it for him right now. He tried to make sense of what was happening, but in the end, he couldn’t, so he gave up. His glance landed on a photo on top of the bookshelf. He stood to examine it. It was the old Scooby gang—Xander with his arms flung around Buffy and Willow, Giles standing slightly to one side. They were all smiling, relaxed-looking, arranged in front of a half-timbered building.

“That was in Ulm,” Xander said.

Spike jumped and spun around. He hadn’t heard Xander come in. But Xander smiled and put the toolbox back in the cupboard before washing up at the kitchen sink.

“It’s called the Crooked House. It’s really, uh, crooked. We were there fighting these Durchfall demons—and you really don’t want to know what happens when you tick one of them off—and then we sort of made a little vacation out of it. Buffy climbed to the top of the cathedral tower and the rest of us sat in the square and ate ice cream. It was nice.” He smiled wistfully and then crossed to the fridge.

“Um, I take it it’s not gonna gross you out if I chug some human juice?”

Spike shook his head slightly, then watched as Xander poured some blood into a big red mug and heated it in the microwave. Then they sat at opposite ends of the sofa, sipping at their drinks. Xander poured some tequila into his mug and smacked his lips. “Vamp margarita. Better’n a bloody mary.”

At last, Spike found his voice. “Harris, what the bloody hell is going on?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Last I heard your lot was traipsing around Europe. And then…there was the bit with the lawyers. Haven’t heard anything since.”

Xander looked solemn. “They’re all dead, Spike. Deader than me, I mean.”

Spike’s heart clenched. “All?”

“Yeah. We were…. There was this sort of war going on. Another fucking apocalypse, with these uberdemons that could bend space, and…it got really ugly. We beat them, but first Giles was killed, then Willow, and finally Buffy. And me.”

“When?” Spike whispered.

“Little over three years ago. Couple months after that picture was taken, actually.” He gestured at the photo.

Spike took several deep breaths. He’d got over Buffy, convinced himself she’d never be his, but still it hurt. Hell, he even found himself mourning Rupert and the witch, a bit. They’d been brave, all of them.

Xander drank slowly, patiently waiting for Spike to go on. “How did you get turned?” Spike finally managed.

“Um, Dracula.”

Spike spat out a mouthful of tequila. “Dracula?! Dracula turned you? That nancy—“

“He’s my sire,” Xander interrupted calmly. “And, uh, for a while he was my lover.”

Spike hadn’t thought he had it in him to be surprised any more tonight, but once again he found himself sputtering helplessly. “Your _lover_?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess so. Boyfriend doesn’t quite describe it when you’re boning 700-year-old undead guys, and we didn’t really date—no dinner and a movie for us—, and, I mean, ‘partner’ isn’t really accurate either. Significant other? Um, no.”

“How??”

“I’d met him before, remember? And he kinda thralled me then. Bugs. Ick. So we were in Hungary and we were really stuck, and I guess he heard about it. He came and helped, because he didn’t like these uberdemons either. I’m not sure why. He has a lot of really strong opinions about stuff. We were fighting side by side for a couple months and he and I kind of hit it off.”

“But you don’t fancy blokes!”

“Yeah, well, apparently I do. Some blokes anyway. And Drac, he’s really sexy, with the eyes and the hair and the—uh, anyway, it happened. I figure part of it was the whole heat of battle thing, you know? You figure if you’re gonna die soon anyway, why be shy? You should have seen who Buffy—um. Anyway. So me and Drac.”

Spike took a gulp of tequila, then put the glass down on the floor beside him and rubbed at his temples. “You and Dracula. Lovers. And he turned you.”

“Yeah. He’d wanted to for a while, but I told him no. I was happy being human. But then…I was hurt really bad in that fight. Look.” He lifted up his shirt, and Spike saw that his chest and stomach were a knotted mass of scars. Xander let the shirt drop. “Pretty, huh?”

Spike swallowed.

“I was dying, Spike. It hurt so much I _wanted_ to die. I knew the rest were already gone, and, and I wanted to be where they were. They were my family.” His voice shook a little, but then he took a deep breath and went on. “Drac found me. He bit me, and he put his own wrist to my mouth. If I’d realized what was happening I would have stopped him, but when the blood is there, you just drink it, and….”

“I know,” Spike said quietly. He did know.

Xander shot him a grateful look. “Yeah. So, that’s how I ended up…like this.” His face crunched and reformed, fangs sliding into place. Spike tensed, waiting for the lunge and bite. But then Xander shook his head and his human face returned. “Ugly damn vamp. All those scars and still only one eye. You’d think if the whole death thing could be overlooked, they could manage to fix one stupid eye.”

Spike relaxed a bit. “But…but you’re here, and, and doing plumbing!”

“After Drac turned me, he took me to his castle and chained me up. He brought me animal blood to feed on, and bottles full of stuff he’d taken from some of his willing donors. Man, I was so furious! I wanted to get out, to hunt, to kill….”

“Why wouldn’t he let you?”

“He kept saying I was his white knight, his Xander, and he didn’t want me ruined.”

Spike frowned.

“I told you, the guy has strong opinions. This was one of them. Anyway, he called in some favors with his Gypsy friends, and they came and stuck a soul in me. It fucking _hurt_! Worse than dying.”

“I know,” Spike said again.

“I never—back in Sunnydale, I never appreciated what you went through to get your soul. And you did it willingly, didn’t you?”

“Fought for it,” Spike said.

“I didn’t. I didn’t want the thing. But once it was in there, well, I didn’t want to get rid of it.”

A soul. That made sense. And if Dracula had never even let Xander kill, his soul would be no more sullied than the average human’s. Less so, even. The boy almost always did what was right, even at great risk to himself.

“So you can’t be too happy, then?” Spike asked.

Xander laughed bitterly. “Not much chance of that, I’m afraid. But there’s no happiness clause for me. The thing’s stuck there pretty permanently.”

“Oh,” said Spike. They were both silent for a bit after that.

“I’m sorry,” Xander muttered.

“What?” Spike thought he’d misheard.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t very nice to you. I mean, you were an asshole most of the time and for a while you tried to kill us. But I never understood how hard it must have been for you, trying to be sort of good, even before the soul. You took care of Dawn, and—“

“The Bit! Is she—“

“She’s okay. She’s in France, working for a fashion magazine. She’s happy, I think. We email.”

Spike huffed out a sigh of relief. Then he remembered that Xander had actually been apologizing to him a moment ago, which was unprecedented. “I could have been better,” he said. “Some of the things I did…to Buffy, and—“

“Yeah, you could have been. I’m just saying. You were amazing, actually, and I never realized it. None of us did.”

Spike was appalled to find himself suddenly fighting back tears, and he turned his head away. “Ta,” he choked out.

Xander stood and took his empty mug to the kitchen and set it in the sink. He turned and leaned against the counter. “So I got souled up. Stayed with Drac a little longer, but…I don’t know. Too many sad memories, I guess. But I found out that I was the beneficiary of Giles’s and Willow’s life insurance—can you believe some company insured them?—and I was comfortably set for a little while. I came back to the States, and I was kind of lurking around LA for a while. That’s where I heard about you guys. I ran into Clem. Remember him?”

“Of course! He’s in LA?”

“Yeah. He works for the phone company. I was bored and I wanted to work, but it’s kinda hard to find a job in construction when you have sunlight issues. But Clem’s cousin owned this motel and he was looking to sell. So I bought.”

“And you’re a vampire innkeeper?”

Xander smiled widely. “Yep. Most of my guests are demons, too. Friendly types. Turns out there’s quite a market for it. I mean, they like to vacation, too, but some of them have problems fitting in at the average Holiday Inn. It’s a good gig. I keep the place up, bring in enough money to keep my head above water. I used to have a guy who helped out during the day and stayed in that trailer. But like I said, he quit last week. Decided to go back to school. So good for him, but I need to find someone else soon who can deal with a vamp boss.”

“How do you eat?”

“Found a guy at Tuolomne General. He brings me expired blood. And I have another source, a rancher down in Oakdale. My diet’s about 50/50 cow and human, which isn’t bad.”

“Better than what Peaches had,” Spike mumbled.

Xander moved away from the counter, closer to Spike. “Hey. I really want to know what you’ve been up to, too. But I’m a little restless. How about a drive? You did come to check out the car after all.”

Spike stood. Movement of any kind sounded good to him, too.

Together, they walked out to the parking lot. “Wanna drive?” Xander asked.

“Best not. I don’t drive when I drink anymore. Don’t need more deaths on my conscience, do I?”

“They joys of vamp constitution, I guess.”

They climbed into the car and Xander was starting the engine when a thought occurred to Spike. “Oi. Why a DeSoto?”

Xander just grinned and pulled out of the lot.

 

The DeSoto’s big engine rumbled as they chugged their way up and down hills. It was running a bit rough. Might just be the valves, but could be a blown head gasket. Xander was taking it easy owing to the bad brakes, which squealed like a dying T’ghunta demon. “Shocks need replacing,” Spike remarked.

“Yep. Ball joints are shot, too.”

Spike looked out the window at the moon shining over the trees. They were on side roads and hadn’t passed a single other vehicle. He wondered what it was like to live in such isolation. Peaceful, he reckoned. Relaxing.

“How long have you had the car?”

“A little over a year. I was gonna do all this work on it, but ended up too busy with the motel.” He laughed. “You’d think immortal beings would have more free time.”

“But you’re satisfied playing handyman?”

Xander shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve pretty much had it with the whole fighting evil thing, you know? But once in a while I feel like sinking my teeth into something—gods, you never said how _good_ that feels!—and I find something to hunt down.”

“Demons?” Spike said, surprised.

“Not so much, not up here. The only demons around are my guests, and it’s not exactly good business to chow down on them. But there’s deer and stuff. I fought a bear a few months ago.”

Neither said anything for a while after that. Spike rolled down his window and let the night air wash over him. He wondered what it must smell like here to a vampire’s sensitive nose. Eventually, Xander turned left, and Spike realized they were back on the road that led to the motel. A few minutes after that they were pulling into the lot. Xander turned off the car and they both sat there, listening to the engine ping as it cooled. It was a little awkward, actually, and Spike was going to scramble out when Xander turned to him.

“Hey. Wanna see something cool?”

“Erm, all right.”

They got out of the DeSoto and walked to the pathway Spike had explored earlier. Xander walked confidently over the uneven ground despite the darkness. Of course, he could see perfectly fine. Spike, on the other hand, couldn’t see much at all, and he missed the tree root completely until he’d tripped over it and fallen clumsily, scraping his palms in the process.

Xander immediately backtracked a few steps and helped Spike to his feet. “You okay?” he asked. “Sorry—I forgot about the human vision thing.”

“’M fine,” Spike mumbled. They continued onward, but he noticed Xander hovered much closer this time, as if he was ready to catch him if he fell again. They passed through the clearing and started to climb the rocky slope. But after only a few yards, Spike stopped. Xander came to a halt as well.

“What’s the matter?” Xander asked.

“My leg. Doesn’t take well to rough terrain.” He hoped Xander couldn’t see the way his face flushed with embarrassment.

But Xander surprised him by grasping Spike’s forearm with a big, calloused hand. “I can help steady you, if you want. It’s not very far.”

Spike really didn’t want to go. He hated being so sodding weak. But he didn’t want to admit that either, so he only nodded once and allowed Xander to lead him up. It really was only a short walk, though, and Xander kept him from slipping the one time the hill started to give under his foot. When they crested the hill, there was a brief, gentle descent, and then Xander released Spike’s arm as they entered a small stand of firs. The path had disappeared, but Xander strode through the trees without hesitating. Then he put out his arm to stop Spike and smiled broadly. “See?” he said.

Just a yard or so past their feet, the ground abruptly dropped, forming a sheer cliff. Outside the cover of the trees, the moon was bright enough for Spike to look down into a tiny valley. A stream ran through the valley, but what was most striking were the blue and green lights that danced around joyously in a rhythm Spike couldn’t quite discern.

“Sprites!” Xander announced.

“Say again?”

“Sprites. They live down there.”

“Sprites? You mean wee fairy folk?”

“Yep. Sometimes I leave them little treats, especially in the winter. They like sugar. Here, c’mon. Maybe they’ll come visit.” He motioned to Spike to sit beside him on a fallen tree. Bemused, Spike did. Xander whistled a little tune—the theme from Star Wars, Spike was fairly certain—and a moment later a few of the lights were rising up toward them.

It was hard to make out the details of the tiny creatures, who were only a few inches tall and glowed bright enough that looking directly at them was uncomfortable. They were remarkably ugly, he thought, like a cross between a praying mantis and a hummingbird, but they zipped cheerfully around his head and Xander’s, chirping and tweeting. Xander pulled a handful of candies out of his pocket—M&amp;Ms, Spike thought—and held them out on his palm. The sprites instantly zoomed in and snatched them away. One of them perched on Spike’s knee to gobble its treat, and a pair of them landed on Xander’s head.

Spike looked at Xander, who was setting more candies on top of his own hair, and he smiled. And the smile turned into a chuckle, and a full-fledged laugh, and then Spike was guffawing so hard he fell off the log and rolled on the soft ground, his eyes swimming with tears. It felt really bloody good. He calmed, holding his side and breathing hard, but then one of the sprites apparently became peeved that the candy was gone, and it landed on Xander’s nose and chattered at him, and Spike lost it completely.

By the time he was once again under control of himself, he was leaning back against the log with Xander at his side. Xander was grinning crookedly at him. Out of nowhere, the realization came to Spike that Xander was beautiful, all unkempt hair and soft brown eye. He shook his head.

“You should see what they’ll do for a doughnut with sprinkles,” Xander said.

“You’re still doughnut boy, then?”

“Doughnut vamp, if you please.”

Spike giggled. Giggled! He wondered if he was drunk. Or perhaps the whelp had found a way to drug him.

Xander tilted his head back against the rough bark and shut his eyes, and then Spike did the same. They sat there peacefully a long time, until Spike’s leg twinged and he moved it restlessly. Xander opened his eyes, turned his head, and looked at him. “We should probably head back,” he said.

He stood, then held out a hand for Spike, who used it to lever himself up. They walked back through the trees and over to the hill, where Xander had to put a strong arm around Spike’s waist to keep him from falling. Spike found himself not minding at all, and he was actually rather sorry when they reached the clearing and Xander let go of him.

Back in Xander’s little flat, Xander found a bag of potato crisps and handed it and a beer to Spike, who was sitting on the sofa again. “Sorry,” Xander said. “That’s about all I have.”

“’S all right. You still fancy human food?”

“Yeah, once in a while. Spicy stuff, mostly.”

“Everything else is bland.”

“Exactly.” Xander collapsed next to him. “How about you? You enjoying eating again?”

Spike nodded. “Yeah. And being out in the sun. Could do with vamp healing, though.” He gestured at his leg.

“Did that happen in that fight?”

“Yeah. Something took a nasty swipe at my knee and I fell. Couldn’t stand up again. I saw Charlie die first, and then Blue, and then Angel….” He bit his lip and looked down at his lap. “I woke up in hospital. Human. Just like the prophecy said. Wasn’t that a bloody hoot?” he realized that Xander probably didn’t understand a good bit of what he was saying, but Xander didn’t ask for an explanation. Instead, he gazed steadily at Spike with his one sad eye.

“The lawyer wankers were gone after that, but I couldn’t…couldn’t abide staying in LA. Once I’d mended enough I took the bit of dosh I had tucked away and headed north.”

“To Berkeley, right?”

“Yeah. I have a little flat there in an old house, a few blocks off Shattuck. Found a job at a garage.”

Xander’s eyebrow shot up. “You’re a mechanic?”

“Don’t sound so bleeding surprised. Been working on cars since before your grandmother was born, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I guess I just never pictured you with a regular job, that’s all.”

“Have to eat, don’t I? And pay the rent.”

“Are…are you happy?”

It was such an unexpected question that it took Spike a moment to sort its meaning. Was he happy? He hadn’t really asked himself that in a very long time. “I’m…content,” he said.

Xander looked at him as if he didn’t believe that at all. “So now that you’re human, are you planning to settle down with someone? Get married? Have children?”

“Are you barmy? Who’d have me? ‘Will you marry me, love? Oh, and did I forget to tell you? I’m a 150-year-old former vampire who’s murdered thousands. Now give us a kiss.’”

Xander was sheepish. “Okay. When you put it like that.”

Spike tilted his head and looked at the boy. No, not a boy, not anymore. A vampire with a soul. Which was a hard enough thing to be, as Spike knew all too well. But alone as well, with his friends all dead and no Dru at his side. Only him and his demon guests.

Xander hunched uncomfortably under his scrutiny, and then stood. “Hey. It’s pretty late if you’re not keeping vamp time. Want me to show you to your room?”

Spike stood, too. “All right. But the car—“

Xander dug in his pocket and held out the keys. “You can have it. As a present, I mean.”

“I can—But—“

“Here.” Xander pressed the keys into Spike’s hand. “I don’t need the money, and I know you’ll take good care of it. I only got it in the first place because— Well, anyway, I’d like you to take it.”

Spike’s throat felt thick. “Cheers,” he muttered, and stuffed the keys in his trousers.

“C’mon. Let me show you your cabin.”

He took Spike to the cabin nearest the office. It had a red door that matched the flowers in front of it. The inside was as neat and cozy as the reception area, with rustic furniture and a fireplace and bright rugs scattered on the pine floor.

“Bathroom’s in there,” Xander said, pointing at a door. “TV’s in the armoire. Minifridge, too. Help yourself.”

“It’s nice,” Spike said, and meant it.

Xander smiled warmly. “Thanks.”

“I’ll have to leave fairly early. Promised my boss I’d be in tomorrow afternoon.”

Xander nodded, and then frowned. “Oh. Your bike.”

“I can fit it in the boot, I think. If you have some rope?”

“Sure. I’ll leave some in the office for you. I probably have some bungee cords, too.”

“Ta.”

They were silent then, and the awkwardness returned.

“Um, look, Spike. It’s…it’s been really nice to see you. I’m glad we found each other.”

“Me, too,” Spike said softly.

“Anytime you want to come up and visit…I mean, I guess former demons can stay here, too.” He smiled. “Maybe you can go see the sprites again.”

“I’d like that, Xander. I will.”

“Good.” Xander clapped Spike on the shoulder, and allowed his hand to linger there. Spike almost grabbed at it when he took it away. But he didn’t.

Xander walked to the door and opened it. “Good night, Spike.”

“Night, Xander.”

 

Spike slept better than he had in years, for once not plagued by nightmares. Somehow knowing Xander was nearby was comforting to him. He knew that was ridiculous, but couldn’t shed the small smile that played about his lips when he woke up in the morning, well-rested and refreshed. Bluejays squabbled noisily outside his window, and when he dressed and stepped out onto the porch, he found a pink bakery box and a thermos which proved to contain some good, strong coffee.

He sat in one of the rocking chairs, savoring his breakfast. The Lister demon appeared with a female, and they waved at him before heading down the road for a morning constitutional. When the food and coffee were gone, he set the empty box and thermos inside his room. Then he headed to the office. The door to Xander’s flat was shut, but, as promised, there were a big coil of rope and several bungee cords piled on the desk.

It didn’t take Spike long to wrestle the Indian into the back of the car, and to secure it carefully. Smiling, he climbed into the DeSoto and started the ignition. Then he headed back to the Bay Area, already planning what he was going to do with the engine.

[Part Three](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/81766.html#cutid1)


	3. DeSoto 4 Sale, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-BtVS and post-AtS, ignoring the comics. Spike answers an ad for a DeSoto for sale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my October entry for fall_for_sx. I'll post all 3 parts today. Totally fabulous poster by [](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/profile)[**katekat1010**](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/)!!

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[desoto 4 sale](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/desoto%204%20sale), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**DeSoto 4 Sale, Part 3/3**_  
**Title: **DeSoto 4 Sale, Part 3   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** PG-13   
**Disclaimer: **I'm not Joss   
**Warnings:** A bit of language   
**Summary:** Post-BtVS and post-AtS, ignoring the comics. Spike answers an ad for a DeSoto for sale.   
**Author's Note:** This is my October entry for fall_for_sx. I'll post all 3 parts today. Totally fabulous poster by [](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/profile)[**katekat1010**](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/)!!

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/00067qg6/)  
---  
  
 

**Part Three   
**   


[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/00068h2z/)  
---  
  
From: victoriangent@gmail.com

To: xlh99@yahoo.com

Sent: November 23, 2009 (8:23pm PST)

Re: Job

 

I was wondering if the situation you advertised on craiglist is still vacant.

 

From: xlh99@yahoo.com

To: victoriangent@gmailcom

Sent: November 23, 2009 (9:13pm PST)

Re: Job

 

Yes it is. Do you have related experience?

 

From: victoriangent@gmail.com

To: xlh99@yahoo.com

Sent: November 23, 2009 (9:22pm PST)

Re: Job

 

Not exactly. But I’m open-minded and a fast learner.

 

From: xlh99@yahoo.com

To: victoriangent@gmail.com

Sent: November 23, 2009 (9:32pm PST)

Re: Job

 

Okay. Can you come for an interview tomorrow at 7pm? It’s the Pale Prospector Inn.

 

 

From: victoriangent@gmail.com

To: xlh99@yahoo.com

Sent: November 23, 2009 (9:40pm PST)

Re: Job

 

I’d be delighted. See you then.

 

***

 

It was Thanksgiving week and all the cabins were booked. Xander was glad the sun set early, because he’d been kept busy rushing around, helping his guests with their various needs. Staying busy was good, because then he didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself for having to spend the holiday alone, sipping blood in his room and watching football on TV. His first year up here he’d bought himself a precooked turkey and a pumpkin pie, but they tasted like cardboard and he’d ended up throwing them out. He guessed Thanksgiving really wasn’t much of a vampire-oriented holiday. Or Christmas either, for that matter, or—

That was enough.

Xander shut his toolbox and looked at the porch railing in satisfaction. That sucker wouldn’t come loose again for a good long time. He stood there a moment, trying to decide which to tackle next, the dripping bathtub in Five or the stuck window in Eleven. But then his sensitive ears caught a familiar sound, and he turned and faced toward the road. Against all reason, he felt his lips lifting in a wide and uncontrollable grin.

A minute or two later, a pair of headlights came into view, and then the DeSoto pulled into the parking lot. Its engine was purring smoothly, like a contented lion, and the chrome was sparkling. The car came to a halt next to his truck, the engine turned off, the door opened. And Spike climbed out.

Spike was smiling. He wore his duster and his usual black on black outfit. His motorcycle was tied up in the trunk, and the back seat was full of boxes and bags.

Xander carried the toolbox with him as he walked over to Spike. “Looks like a full house,” Spike said, taking in the packed parking lot.

“Business is good.”

“Got room for one more?” Spike’s lips quirked up.

Xander felt an impossible rush of heat in his dead heart. “I think I could squeeze you in somewhere,” he replied.

Spike did that thing where he curled his tongue behind his teeth. It made Xander’s breath catch. “Might fancy staying a while,” he said.

“Yeah? What about your job?”

“Quit. Been looking for a new position.” And then Spike closed the few feet between them and placed his hands on Xander’s shoulders. “Know of any available around here?”

Xander dropped the toolbox and it clattered noisily on the pavement. His hands found their way to Spike’s warm sides. They felt right, as if they’d always been meant to go there. “It just so happens I’m still looking for day help.”

“Does it pay well? Are there health benefits? Dental?”

“It pays really shitty, actually. But I can promise many benefits.”

Spike tilted his head a little and smiled, heartbreakingly beautiful. “Then you’ve got yourself a man.”

 

_~~~fin~~~_

 


End file.
